“It is not what you accuse,” he said darkly. “I made you my wife.”
Callie choked on a gasp. “You—you did what?”
Rain’s face remained impassive. “I married you. That was the price of your freedom from the eternal dance.”
“You married me?” shrieked Callie.
Rain folded his arms over his chest. His biceps pressed against the thin black leather of his armour.
Callie’s hands furled into fists.
“You don’t know me! You don’t love me!” Her fingernails cut into her palms. “Are you insane?”
Rain pushed himself from the dressing table and moved toward her.
Callie recoiled and stumbled back.
He might have strolled, but there was a lazy danger in the way he moved, like a tired beast, ready to attack at any moment.
She only stopped backing away from him when she connected with the wall.
He followed, caging her between the wall and his body.
“I wed you, human, because of what you can offer me.”
Rain tucked his finger underneath her chin and tilted her head up. Her eyes, wide and teary, burned into his gaze.
“I want an heir. A strong child to uphold my family honour.” He paused to run his thumb over her chin. “You can give that to me.”
Callie’s lips curled in a quivering sneer. The thrum of her heartbeat in her ears muffled her voice, “I’m no one’s broodmare, arsehole.”
The words were spat from her mouth with so much venom that Rain’s jaw clenched and his fingers pinched her chin. Her jawline ached within seconds of his tight grip. He studied her with the coldness of ice a beat, then hummed to himself.
Rain released her.
Callie sank back into the wall and watched him, waited for him to show his true monster-self. But it didn’t happen.
He just looked her up and down, then turned and walked away.
The prince disappeared through the sheer drapes. Callie didn’t follow.
Callie successfully avoided the war prince for a couple of hours.
He took a long swim in the wash-pond, then wrote letters at the desk by the balcony doors for some time afterwards.
Callie spied on him through the sheer curtains. Each time he came too close to the drapes, she shuffled back on the bed until her spine pressed into the hard frame.
It wasn’t until Davina came into the room, carrying a covered tray, that Rain emerged from the drapes.
“We will dine on the balcony,” he told the servant.
Then, his shadowy eyes shifted to Callie huddled up on the bed. His armour was gone, replaced by slack trousers that hung low on his hips. Above the waistband, scars tattered smooth skin that looked to have been carved from stone. Stone that had cracks in it. Ivory scars stemmed off one another like twigs breaking away from branches.
Callie spared the marks a swift glance, then forced her gaze away.
Rain reached out his hand for her.
Callie wanted to tell him where he could put that hand. But then, she caught scent of roasted ham from the platter in Davina’s hold.
Callie’s stomach growled and she reluctantly climbed off the bed.
Snubbing Rain’s offered hand, she stalked past him and followed Davina through the curtains. The soft sound of Rain’s footsteps trailed her to the glass doors.
Davina stopped at the doors and waited for Rain to press his hand against the white panel. Once he did, the doors unlocked with a loud click and swung open.
Fireflies buzzed in clears jars plotted along the limestone barrier, lighting the balcony with a pearly glow.
Callie was the first to step through the doors.
Fresh air piled into her lungs as her eyes shut in a blissful moment. Until that moment, she hadn’t realised how much she’d longed for the crispness of fresh air and the feel of a soft breeze on her skin.
She opened her eyes and looked up at the stars.
The midnight sky matched the shade of her fading dye and the stars winked down at her in dancing glitter.
The moon cast a bright glow on the stone of the balcony, reaching over the high barriers. Callie stepped further out, spotting the cusp of a forest ahead, and stone walls circling them.
She turned and looked up at the building. Her gaze lingered over every detail and she mentally logged notes for future reference. But all thoughts of escaping were vanquished as she realised where she was.
A castle.
A grey, stone castle with high towers shooting up from the ground, and guards walking the balconies above.
Rain placed his hand on the small of her back, jerking her out of her thoughts.
“Come.” He guided her to the corner of the balcony, where there was a cosy circle of pillows and feathery blankets tucked around a high fireplace. A pop from the fireplace came before the flames turned green.
Callie raised her eyebrows.
“The fire,” she said. Her finger pointed at the now-orange flames. “Did you see that?”
Davina placed the tray of dinner by the fireplace. “It turns green each hour that passes in this land,” she said. “It’s a way of managing time in a place where clocks won’t tick.”
Callie frowned; her gaze shifted to Rain as he walked around her, the way he moved reminded her of a slinky.
“We eat until the green flames return.” Rain paused beside the pillows. His unreadable eyes rinsed over her frown-lines before shifting down to the thin set of her lips. “Would you prefer to bathe before we eat?”
Outrage sparked in her eyes. “Not with you.”
Her face twisted into a sneer before she stormed over to the tray. Three tureens sat on top of it, steam slithering out of the edges. Each lidded bowl had a different design, from blue and white spirals to all black.
Davina dipped her head and left.
Rain watched her, like a python stalking a mouse.
As he joined her at the blankets, he said, “You are fiery for a human.”
Callie snubbed his comment and lifted the lid of the closest tureen. Before she could place the lid on the tray, sour steam wafted up and struck her face.
Callie flapped her hand in front of her face and recoiled from the stench.
“Boiled herring hearts,” said Rain. “It is a favourite of mine.”
He sat across from her, one leg stretched across the pillows, the other tucked up against his scarred chest.
His hand gestured to the pink and yellow tureen. “That meal will suit your human appetite better.”
Callie reached for the lid. No steam or stench punched her nostrils this time. With a cautious look, she inched closer to the serving bowl and peered inside. It appeared to be some sort of salad.
Her squinted eyes flickered from cubed potatoes and chopped carrots, to turnip shavings and steak chunks. Some sort of herb was sprinkled over it, but it wasn’t any she recognised; the chopped herb shone blue under the moonlight.
Callie swerved her gaze up at him. Her lashes fringed her view, and she kept her head bowed. “Is this safe to eat?”
Rain reached forward and plucked a potato from the dish. He popped it into his mouth and swallowed it whole.
“I am not overly fond of such foods,” he said. “But they are safe for you to eat—my human servants dine on the same.”
There weren’t any cutlery or dishes.
Rain pulled the fish hearts closer to himself and used his fingers.
Callie copied; she’d eaten worse foods without cutlery before. Kebabs on a night-out, take-away burgers dripping with sauce. Yet, it held a different atmosphere on the balcony.
Callie wondered if this is what it was like at hippie communes; a connection with one’s natural self without trivial instruments such as forks and spoons.
Meghan always wanted to visit a commune.
The thought jolted through Callie. She dropped a piece of steak onto her lap.
“Where’s Meghan?” she said, horrified.
To have forgotten
about her own friend, even if entangled in her own fears of captivity and an unwanted marriage, was something she would never forgive herself for.
“Is she here? Did you lock her up too?”
Rain licked a drop of blood from his black fingernail. “I do not recall meeting a Meghan.”
“My friend,” said Callie. “The one I came for—you found her with the vines in the hall.”
Rain hummed as a spark of understanding lit up his eyes.
“Where is she?” Callie’s voice tightened with the nerves boiling up inside of her. “What did you do with her?”
Rain considered her. The hues of his eyes—dark, like the golden goblets they drank from—studied her face. Silence lashed between them as he took another fish heart from the tureen and ate it.
“I will take you to her in time,” he said slowly, as if cautious of the words that escaped him. “When I am certain of your loyalty, I will allow a visit.”
Callie whacked a goblet of water off the tray. It clanged to the stone floor, water dampening the pillows. “I have no loyalty to you. I want to see her now.”
Rain would have appeared perfectly composed, if it hadn’t been for his hands. They flexed, the way they would when fitting gloves onto fingers, then curled into fists. But when he spoke, his voice was as calm as a frozen sea.
“I would not expect anything more from a mere mortal,” said Rain. “And that is why you will stay here, caged in your accommodations, until I decide otherwise.”
Callie’s fingernails dug into the pillow beneath her. Her arm muscles clenched so tightly that they’d begun to tremble.
“You tricked me,” she said, hissing the words through her gritted teeth. “You tricked me into this—this sham of a marriage, and you think I’ll just take it? You honestly believe I’m going to stay here with you … you things?”
“You do not have a choice,” he said, unfazed. “You will stay here as my wife.”
Callie crinkled her nose and glanced down at his too-smooth chest. He reminded her of those old action dolls she used to play with as a child.
“I don’t even know what you are,” she spat. “You don’t ... look right.”
He didn’t look human, is what she meant.
His golden eyes, tar-black hair, marble skin—it reminded her of a wax statue or a porcelain doll; they were created in the image of people, but there was something off about them, something not quite right. The scars on his chest that looked to be symbols shone in a way most inhuman, his teeth were those of a predator’s.
A smile spread across his face, one that sent a shiver down her spine.
“It is you who looks strange to me,” he said. His hand gestured to her scowl. “Your round eyes, curved ears, flat teeth.” The pools of gold shifted up to her faded sapphire hair. “At first, I thought you were a kuri. A human descendant of a changeling. I’d assumed you had some of our blood in your veins, no matter how diluted.”
Callie patted her hair, as if to shield it from his gaze. She tucked a strand behind her ear.
“It’s fake,” she said. “I coloured it.”
Rain touched his gaze back to hers. There was something in his eyes that wasn’t there before—a hunger, a thirst.
Callie shifted on the pillow.
“Kuris,” he said, “often wander into our realm. When I first laid my eyes upon you, that is what first came to mind. With your spectacular hair and your eyes made of such colour, it was a reasonable assumption. I had you tested while you slept.” His jaw clenched; under the pale light of the moon, a shadow licked up his chin to his dark eyes. “You are a mere human. I was … disappointed.”
“No problem,” said Callie smartly. “A quickie divorce will solve that.”
Rain smirked, a dreadful gesture.
“You misunderstand me. I married you the day after I learned of what you truly are. It might have been easier for you in this realm if you were a part of us. Alas, you will suffer your days here.”
He looked at the railing, where a firefly in its jar flew into the glass over and over again. The buzz and tap seemed to irritate him.
“I will assist in making your time here pleasant,” he added, bringing his gaze back to her. “But I am capable of only so much. Ultimately, it is within you to allow yourself happiness.”
Callie glared at him. “I’ll never be happy with you.”
Callie’s were the last words spoken over dinner. She’d lost her appetite, and passed the rest of the hour staring at the fireplace, waiting for green flames to ignite. When they did, she slapped her hands to her knees and stood.
Rain was in front of the glass doors before she’d turned towards them. She hesitated and rubbed her forehead, nauseated by his fast movements.
He pushed open the doors and gestured her to go first.
“Don’t do that again,” she said before she went inside.
He followed her, then came the soft click of the doors. “Do what, human?”
Callie spun around. He stopped a mere inch from her. “My name is Callie, not ‘human’, ok? And I don’t like when you move fast like that. It gives me a headache.”
Rain only watched her as she turned on her heels and plodded through the drapes.
10
It was some time after, when the moon was highest in the sky, that Rain dipped his hand in the pond. His gaze stayed on the moving shadow behind the drapes, watching as it paced around the room. “Would you like to bathe?”
A shrill sound was his answer. The shadow made a rude gesture in his direction.
Rain strode towards the drapes and slipped through them. He watched Callie rummage through the vanity desk drawers.
“What are you in search of, huma—Callie?”
“A toothbrush.” It had been a while since she’d brushed her teeth. A furry coating had grown over them.
Rain rested his hand on a high table, his head tilted to the side.
“Toiletries are provided,” he said. “You will find them in your private bathroom.”
Callie paused. Her neck craned as she frowned over her shoulder at him. “My what?”
“Your bathroom,” he repeated. “It has all your human body requires, with the privacy to do as you must. I had Davina prepare it for you while you rested.”
Callie figured that when he said ‘rested’, he was referring to the fortnight she’d been unconscious. And since she’d woken, Davina hadn’t told her of any such bathroom. All she’d done was taken her to the pond, then cleaned away the mess from her legs when she was stuck to the vines.
“Where is it?” she asked.
Rain inclined his head to a curtain at the opposite wall. Callie had already peeked through the curtain; it was an alcove behind it with an armchair and table, not a bathroom.
“Already checked,” she said. “Nothing’s through there.”
Rain hummed, a calculative sound rife with patronisation. Callie shot him a look, but he ignored it and swept past her. He stopped beside the curtain and peeled it to the side.
The alcove was revealed. An armchair was tucked in the corner, and above it—dug into the wall—were shelves with a handful of novels and jars of fireflies plotted on top of them.
“It’s a reading corner,” she said with a shrug.
Rain beckoned her over.
Callie huffed as she plodded over to him. Her gaze ran over the alcove again before she said, “Still just a reading corner.”
“Select a book,” he said, gesturing to the novels. Callie stepped into the alcove and made to pick one at random. He reached out and stopped her, his fingers coiling around her wrist. “Read the spines before you choose.”
Callie stretched up on her toes.
The light of the jars cast white glows over the crinkled spines. Peeling gold letters shone at her from crinkled leather. Each title was different; ‘WATER CLOSET’, ‘TROUSSEAU ROOM; ‘ORCHARD; ‘LIBRARY’.
Callie ran her finger down the peeled spine of one book; the faded leather WC book. She
hesitated before clutching the spine in her hand and slipping it off the shelf.
Just as she brought it to herself, the book whipped itself open and—the pages flicked by themselves. Each one was blank, until the very last, and a sketch of a bathroom marked the page.
“Watch.” Rain’s quiet voice almost jolted her from her awe.
She turned to glance at him.
Rain gestured to the wall where the same sketch began to appear on each brick of stone. The stone seemed to melt before her eyes.
Callie stepped away, her wide eyes glued to the drooping wall. It dripped like candlewax, until all that was left was a gaping hole—that led to a bright white room.
Fleetingly, Callie thought of the light at the end of the tunnel, the brightness of heaven. But she wasn’t in heaven; she was as far from it as possible.
“No door?” she said. No door meant no privacy. He had said privacy.
“Take the book with you,” he said. “The wall will close once you are inside. It will open again once you press the book to the stone.”
Callie took a step forward. The book was hugged to her chest, as if it were a shield against the unknown magic before her. Another step forward.
Rain stayed by the curtain. The burn of his eyes followed her as she dipped through the hole.
The stone closed behind her.
The assault of the white light began to dim.
Callie squeezed her eyes shut a few times as she adjusted to the brightness. Once the white spots in her vision cleared, she ran her gaze around the small bathroom.
A porcelain toilet in the corner tugged up her eyebrows. She’d half-expected a hole in the dirt instead. Beside the toilet was a white basin that protruded from the wall, and a wicker basket beneath it filled with toiletries—toilet roll, menstrual products, face cleanser and soaps.
Callie sighed quietly.
There was no shower, no bathtub, no way of washing her body and hair without using the pond. The wash-pond was far too public for her comfort, and she didn’t trust Rain not to watch her, or worse. Join her.
After she’d finished in the WC, she pushed the book up against the wall.
The wall dripped down into a pool of stone-wax, and peeled apart in the centre. She ducked through it, back into the alcove.
Feared Fables Box Set: Dark and Twisted Fairy Tale Retellings, (Feared Fables Box Sets Book 1) Page 18